The courtyard wall fountain gurgles and the sound of the lightly falling water breaks the stillness of the day. The noon day sun, full of falls golden light, warms the tiles. The warmth of the air is scented by Tea Roses growing in large blue and white ceramic pots set in the recesses of the California Spanish Colonial Moorish column lined courtyard open to the sky.
Sopia opens the French doors from her petite salon and a lively and an unfailingly groomed Pomeranian bounces into the courtyard, followed by an elegant Sophia. The lady of the Maison places a silvertray carrying a bottle of Saint Germaine wine and Perrier down and returns to the salon to retrive another tray of cheeses and two Saint Louis goblets. A bistro table is set for two in the center of the courtyard, away from the fountain, but close enough to hear it rather than outside noise. Sophia reflects upon the scene she has created. Taking it in with a critical eye, Sophia looks not only to the pristine cleanliness of the sunny rose scented courtyard but also to the effect created by the round table covered in lilac Italian linen pressed to perfection and set with the lightly colored Dresden plates, each piled high with macaroons, cheeses, crackers and set off by Regence sterling and the Saint Louis goblets rimmed in gold. It is a lovely scene. The wonder of it is not in the elegant appointments but that that the light rose scented courtyard could be in Eze or any other quiet village in the Maritime Alpes and not on Sutter Street in downtown San Francisco.
Leaving the French doors to the petite salon open allows a half dozen magnificent evening gowns hung on a gilted rolling rack to be seen by her guest seated in the courtyard. The position of the gowns, just in view, seems the right thing to introduce the collection. Light conversation, light food, flowing wine, than perfection worked in silk, tulle, linen Standing next to the gold ballroom chairs placed by the table, Sophia basks for a moment in the sunlight,. fall had been chillier than hoped for but today was bright and felt warm. A burst od spring. Still it was late fall and this was San Francisco not Eze so leaving the doors open to the petite Salon might chill the room. "I'll have Adridge prepare a fire", she thought, a quick use of her i phone and Adige was summoned. Sophia the exceedingly beautiful, perfectly coiffed, effortlessly charming 50 year old owner of this house must sell all the gowns she has sample ordered for her client Isabele. The selection is perfect. A sudden San Francisco fog descending into this private world could make it less so.
Each garment of the spring collection was a masterpiece of the couturiers art. Color, shape, form, every detail thought out and executed flawlessly. Sophia knew every physical asset the client should display as well as every scar or pound that needed to be hidden. Sophia also knows what trend and new style her client followed, as well as every fashion thought that the client had, for the very simple reason that those thoughts had been placed there over the years by a guiding Sophia. The secret was in keeping the client merrily engaged.
Isabele liked conversation and a drink before viewing clothes and when in the right toasty mood would gladly submit to the final pining of a dozen creations. The alcohol was as needed as the gowns. The occasional rebellion rose up among her ladies, usually over cos or time delay and a glass or two would never fail to close the sale. Sophie had long learned to wait for the decision. A sale was always a foregone conclusion. If the dark brown satin evening paintsuit by the new French designer wasn't to the ladies taste than perhaps the Italian gown, taupe and covered in tiny Austrian crystals, a brilliant working of tailoring and embellishment from a season ago would fit the demands of her diary? As confident as she was of the rightness of the selection for Isabeles 50 something pilates toned body and the demands of a winemakers social life, the rolling rack of yet to be viewed gowns, all ordered for Isabelle by Sophia had yet to be purchased and were a substatial investment of time, reputation and guile that needed to sell. The thought of not succeeding briefly annoyed her and tested her practiced look of unflappable perfection that had been cultivated over 35 years of working in the world of created beauty.
." Adridge... where is that fool she thought - pushing the app once again before giving up on 21st century technology. No reply. In haste there arose from our lady a bellowing yell more befitting a teamster than a superbly beautiful woman dressed in an elegant Alexander McQueen white lace dress. Still no reply. Stepping into the long interior hallway that connected the courtyard to the front salon, Sophia bellowed, "ADRIDGE..WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?". Adridge appeared silently at the end of the hall bearing a huge bottle of chilled french vodka and a salver with a set of crimson colored Moser shot glasses. Ghastly thin, Addige personified a qoute of the Duchess of Windsor, " nothing to look at so the only thing to do was dress better than everyone else", Adige did so with flair. Today's custome was a full legnth Venetian dressing gown of velvet brocade, light yellow with teal blue frogging and cord piping, the lining was silk of the deepest shade of navy blue worn over his day uniform of perfectly tailored deep grey flannel pants and a blue and white stripped shirt. " Dear girl I'm not hard of hearing.", Sophia replied "wonderful man, now please do be a useful thing and lay a fire in the salon, I'm afraid it may become chilly" .Adige holding the Vodka bottle up replied, " Dearest that's why I've brought this to your table". Adidge, 45, gay, flabby, was a not particularly sober, not particularly talented decorator, who was very particular only about his clothes, the alcohol he drank at others expense, and most importantly that his tricks be straight or as he liked to say "straight but straying," An expensive french vodka culled from the cellar was his selection today and he placed the chilled frosted bottle dead center on the round table in the open courtyard. Sophia removed it at once and striding into the petite salon placed it behind the daybed facing the four sided mirror, away a bit but still handy to the rack of clothes should need arise to confront the image reflected in those mirrors.
Sophia's clients knew no world other than one of calm perfection. A world as sweetly scented as the abundant floral arrangements she changed daily in the petite salon. Worry was simply unknown and if it did arise, typically went no deeper than a feeling of general anxiety associated with the fear of hosting a boring dinner party. A vodka drinking, gay male interior designer, while not an unknown companion in Isabelle Harris's set, would distract from the sale and the sale of the collection, all of it, was the reason for this tete a tete. "Oh you.... bother you're such a puritan Soph." saidAddige. "Adige be a dear,... build the fire!" The command issued was answered by a resigned shrug and Adige as ever was eager to sing for his supper among the rich and Sophia's clients were that, the international rich, swept pass Madame and did as commanded. "Don't light it and do be neat, keep the area clear near the ottoman and don''t get in Mde. Chia's way. "
Mde. Chia was a superbly skilled and perfectly ancient tailor, one rumored to have escaped the Reds in Mde Chaing Kai Shek's personal entourage. Information which overawed the younger clients and caused no end of amusement to Sophia's old guard ones, who all knew that Mde. Chi'a had grown up on Larkin street and was as American as Betty Bloomer. Her tailoring skills having been acquired from her grandfather and a keen, honest, love of the work. Mde. Chia's cost was prohibitive but eagerly paid for as her skilled use of a needle could transform a 10 into an 8 and make the client who was wearing an off the rack 12 feel 18 again. That was the magic they paid for and pay they did. Mde. Chia also had a wonderfully reassuring smile and an ability to blend into the woodwork unless needed. Mde Chia brought forth an ice filled Christofle champagne cooler from the mini cabinet hidden in the corner and retrieving the bottle of vodka from behind the daybed placed same in the cooler and set both on the granite topped 18th century bombe chest nearest the mirrors opposite the apricot colored Louis 15th marble mantelpiece where Adige was skillfully building the start of a future fire. "Adige where are the glasses"..."lowrd woman..enough " roared the kneeling man. " Have I been called here to amuse our Isabel or be a house slave...? HA! piped in Mde. Chia , a rank rebellion is what this is and it will stop at once.. I order it so" , Grabbing the vodka a mock imperial Sophia playfully cried out Comrades here's a toast to the success of our mission.". Sophia filled three Moser shot glasses and passing the salver between them insisted that each.take a glass. " A toast than ...here's to us." they clinked the bottom of the others glass and raised the glass to their lips. The doorbell in the front salon chimed. A gulped drink followed by a breathless Sophia ordering "Quick..Adridge drape yourself over the ottoman and do be amusing Mde. Chia test the lights over the gowns and the ones over the step platform in front of the mirrors .. oh and fresh glasses. A delighted Sophia checked her makeup in the mirrors.
Sophia, a picture of elegant composure, glided into the courtyard scooping up Coty the Pomeranian and strode down the long hallway through to the front of her Salon and answered the door. It was the client.
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